The light fitting in my room exploded today (internally, so no exciting glass showers for me), and since the millions of tea lights dotted everywhere aren’t bright enough to read by, I’m going to start a new blog series. Ooh, fancy!
This series will document my move to London and all the trials and tribulations inherent in finding your place in a big city. I also want it to be somewhat collaborative, so if you have any topics you’d like covered or burning questions answered, then please leave a comment (even if it’s just to moan with me about the tube being delayed… again!).
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You stumble down the winding path to the youth hostel, your back aching under the weight if your pack and your legs ready to give out. That was a far longer walk than you expected.
Your room is small and cluttered with other peoples’ belongings. You smile at the stranger on the bed next to yours. You chat, briefly: “where are you from? What’s the bus route like around here?”
The next day you eat breakfast together, choking down the free food so it will last you all day. You have more in common than you think.
That night, as the screeching of crows die away, you talk about your families, about your adventures. About anything.
Then it’s time to leave. You wish each other good luck. Smile one last time.
As you walk down the abandoned corridor you realise you know everything about them, everything except their name.